Chapter Text
“Please. Please,” you plead, following Ace Trappola outside of the cafeteria.
He shakes his head firmly as the two of you swerve between a crowd of upperclassmen. “No, no, no. Stop that!”
“Stop what?”
Ace comes to a swift stop in front of Deuce, who’s just appeared out of the lunch crowd like an angel through the clouds. He’s holding a cupcake, obviously only half-listening to the commotion before him.
“She's freaking me out,” Ace says in a hoarse whisper, just in case you overhear and attack him like some wild animal. “Look at her!”
Deuce peers over Ace’s shoulder, studying you as if you might be baring fangs. He looks back. “So? What’re we looking at?”
“She's doing that… face… I hate it!”
“What face? What are we talking about?”
You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. “I’m not making any kind of face. Ace is just being a jerk because he won’t let me come on his trip. The guilt is wrecking him,”
“Trip?” Deuce raises an eyebrow.
“Across the Shaftlands, with some of the other Heartslabyul students. I totally scored the perfect seat!” the redhead announces proudly, without an ounce of remorse. “And the last seat!”
You whine, gripping your chest as if keeling over in pain. Like you're being shot through the heart. “You’re killing me!”
"Geez, overdramatic much?"
“You two are something else,” Deuce rolls his eyes. “You couldn’t pay me to take a trip with Ace. Personally, I can’t wait to see my mom.”
“Lame!” Ace shouts before promptly taking off the second he notices you're distracted. “OkaybyeseeyouafterbreakPrefect!”
“Hey! I’m not done!” But it’s no use- in a split-second, he’s disappeared. you sigh, crossing your arms again, and turn to Deuce. “Any chance your mom has room for two…?”
Deuce walks over to you and starts guiding you down the hall, back to the dorms. “She’s not really a great host. Plus, if I brought a girl home…”
“Ah, I see,” you sigh again, louder. “A girl like me, hm?”
“No, any girl. She’d get all embarrassing about it,”
The two of you reach the chamber of mirrors within minutes, stopping promptly to wait in line for Heartslabyul.
The dorm feels cozier than usual today with the fresh blanket of snow covering the grounds. A fire (perfectly tended to) is warming the lounge, fresh tea is being served at the appropriate hour, and even the hedgehogs and flamingos are cozy inside, sheltered away from the winter weather. The holiday decorations are perfectly tasteful- garlands imitating pine strung the dorm, each adorned with red ornaments.
A spatter of crimson paint slips from one of the bulbs and lands on your shoulder as Cater walks into the room, whistling merrily and brushing his hands off. A streak of red, matching the crime scene on your coat, is smeared across his cheek, as if he’d been mauled by the holiday season. Damn, that's probably not going to come out. And on your only winter coat…
“You have something there,” you say, gesturing to the mark on his cheek.
He swipes at it with his thumb. “Ah- don’t worry, it’s just paint! Some total airhead put up the white ornaments instead of the red ones,”
Deuce opens his mouth to interject. “Weren’t you in charge of-”
“All taken care of now! How’s my favorite hun doing?”
You're getting better at not turning around to see who Cater is referring to when he says those things. “I’m at a crossroads. You?”
“Ooh, mysterious as ever. That’s why I love you, Prefect,” he sighs dreamily. “I’m well. Got VIP tix for a Coral Sea resort that’ll have my Magicam on everyone’s TL for months!”
You sigh. “Happen to have a spare ticket?”
“Unfortunately #no. What’s the buzz? I thought you hated that kinda thing? Or am I thinking of that portrait outside the staff room… you two look SO alike, have I ever said that?”
Only eighty times. You shake your head, but before you can get the chance to speak, the door behind Cater swings open with force. “We’re out of mints. How are we supposed to do our Winter Tea without peppermints?” Riddle asks.
“Au contraire, OOMF!” Cater grins. “I ordered extra. They’re in the back.”
“Thank the Queen that someone is on top of things besides me. Honestly, it’s like you’ve all lost your heads!” Riddle sighs and massages his temples before his eyes drift up to you. “Ah, Prefect. No trouble, I hope?”
“I’m not synonymous with trouble,”
He makes a face. “...Yes. Well, we’re always happy to have you and Grim. Speaking of, he’s…?”
“Already taken off,” you sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “Gone on some fancy Shaftlands trip with Ace.”
“Ah, fellow travelers! I’ll have to get their @’s for a collab!” Cater chimes in from across the room as he busies himself with wreaths. Deuce rolls his eyes.
Riddle sounds unenthused. “Merry. And you? Any plans?”
You're not entirely sure if Riddle truly cares, or if this is some complicated social rule- “Rule #349, always make polite but apathetic small talk with a relative stranger”.
“Not so far. What are you doing?”
“Home. I have studying to get ahead on. And… Trey’s family bakery makes the most delicious winter pies…” Riddle stares off into space as he imagines the savory treats. He quickly snaps out of his luster and clears his throat. “But mostly studying. Breaks are no excuse to slack and fall behind! I expect all of my dormmates to stay sharp over the winter!”
The Heartslabyul dorm seems to let out a collective groan at Riddle’s sharp words, but none protest. You think to yourself that Ace was fortunate to be gone already- he would’ve certainly picked a fight over that.
Trey backs out of the kitchen with a tray piled high with sweets for the winter tea party and your stomach grumbles longingly. You let out a dramatic sigh and fwump into the seat next to Deuce on the lounge couches.
“I hope that’s a sigh of relief, and not despair, Prefect. You may not be a Heartslabyul student, but as your friend, I’m liable to give you the same treatment!”
“What kind of friend would- oof,” Deuce grumbles as you elbow him.
“Studying might be the only thing I do over break at this rate,” you shake your head. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Riddle’s eyes widen. “Ah… yes, I’d almost forgotten, somehow. I suppose you’d become such a fixture on campus that your predicament had somehow slipped my mind. You’ve truly found no one to take you in for the season?”
You shrug. “You guys are all busy. Crowley is busy…”
“Hmm… perhaps another first year might accomodate you?”
“All going home, no weird non-magical visitors allowed,”
“Well… perhaps… No, I wouldn’t recommend that in good faith,”
You immediately perk up in your seat at Riddle’s contemplative look. “What? What is it?”
“Well, Azul stays at school over the break…”
Your enthusiasm withers like a flower in a drought. “Forget it,”
“Even if he would entertain you… all you’d do is go back and forth with him,” Deuce sighs, shaking his head. “Whole break, wasted! Just like that!”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Riddle nods in agreement. “Contemptuous, truly. Apologies for my lack of assistance, Prefect. I’m sure studying throughout the break will put you ahead of half our dorm, though!”
You shrug. “Thanks, Riddle,”
“My pleasure. Now… it’s 4:50 PM- let’s try to stay on schedule for winter tea,”
“Maybe you could rent a boat,”
“I have no money,”
“Build a pillow fort!”
“With who?”
Kalim scratches his chin, staring up at the sky, adorned with merrily dancing clouds, the winter wind whipping them into a musical frenzy. “You’re right. This is a pickle,”
“Kalim, stop picking at your skin. You’ll break out,” Jamil’s voice echoes from the seat next to you. He is promptly ignored.
“Oh, I know- you could come stay with me and my family!”
“You brought that one up already, and I can’t. That many people? Forget it,” you sigh. You feel like dunking your head into the freshly fallen snow beneath you.
“A wise decision,” a familiar voice rings out.
You immediately perk up. “Hornton. I thought you’d already left,”
He tugs at a large rollaway suitcase behind him, his knights in shining snowsuits stumbling behind him, bickering about one useless thing or another. “We're making our departure now. I only wanted to bid you goodbye… and to apologize again for not being able to accomodate you for the season,”
You manage a half-smile. Malleus has always been… somewhat understanding. “Well, bye and stuff,” you say.
“Goodbye, Child of Man. Please, see to the gargoyles while I'm away,”
“I’ll try,”
Malleus begins pulling his suitcase behind him again, albeit awkwardly, as if he had never handled one before, walking down the icy path to the hall of mirrors. “Wander the campus, enjoy the night, and if you need anything… you have Lilia's 'deets', do you not? Farewell,”
“Covered, yep, and yeah. Bye,”
And with that, he’s gone.
Jamil shakes his head. “My, you two were truly a match made in Hell. If you had it your way, we’d never see you two in daylight again,”
“You make it sound like we’re vampires,” you say, looking back at him. “...Well. Fair enough. But back to my problem…”
“You’ve been complaining for an hour and forty-five minutes, and have shot down every solution. I’m beginning to think you’re just stalling us so we’ll stay with you longer,” he says, crossing his arms. You clear your throat nervously.
“...So?”
“Come on, Kalim, we’re leaving,” Jamil grabs Kalim’s wrist and begins dragging him to the hall of mirrors.
“Waaaaait, no! Don’t leave me here!”
Kalim gives a guilty expression, a soft wave, and then the two disappear.
The school is empty.
Everyone- friends, foes, the kids who give you weird looks in the halls- had disappeared to God knows where. Back to their loving families, warm homes, luxurious vacations…
And here you are. In the library, reading a dreary book on Shaftlands history. Whoever had written it was clearly not aware of the modern grammatical miracle known as the period, since the sentences went on and on for what felt like an eternity.
What use is reading if you don’t absorb any of it?
You slam the heavy volume shut and return it to its eternal resting place, kicking up the same cloud of dust you did when you pulled it out.
A faint chuckling across the room interrupts your moping. “What, no errands to run this week?”
Azul’s head appears from behind a shelf as he carries a comically tall stack of books out with him. You raise an eyebrow at him and he grins. “No? Pity. Well, I’m used to this place being empty on break, so… scram,”
“Really? That’s great. I’m used to home cooked meals and toasty fireplaces, but we can’t all get what we want, can we?” you lie.
Azul smirked. “Finally grew some guts since the last time we spoke, did you? I much prefer you when you’re mean, makes you fit in here,”
You roll your eyes. He’s clearly taunting you, asking for an argument to cure his boredom or drowsiness or whatever this is… you're not going to fall for it… this time. “If I had it my way, I’d be anywhere else,”
“Let me guess- no money, no friends willing to lend a hand?”
“You guess correctly,”
He smiles, then shrugs. “What about… oh, whatever. Why do I care?”
And with that, he sets down his stack of books on one of the adjacent tables and dives into the deep sea of wooden shelves for more. His hunt proves successful as he returns with another heavy load of novels, guides, and memoirs. “You’re still here?” he asks, scanning you over. “I’m never going to get any good work done with you around, am I? Don’t you have any friends from other schools? You seem to be the type to have some Royal Sword Academy princes up your sleeve.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to one directly,” you say, brushing off the odd suggestion. You? Goody-two-shoes? RSA friends? It’s almost laughable. You had almost forgotten what going to a school of villains did to you. Too cold, too strange, too distant for normal people- and here, you were too kind. Too caring. Too pure.
Ah… something about that word.
“You know… maybe I do know someone,” you think aloud. “I don’t know if… well… I’m not sure how he’d feel about seeing me.”
“Mm,” Azul seems to twitch a little at the notion, as if he knows exactly who you're referring to. But he doesn’t push- he and you have had a stilted relationship these past few months. Well, you've felt that way about everyone. “I suppose.”
“I know how to get there. But they might not even let me in…”
“Then you can come back and ruin another perfect workday of mine,” he says merrily, though his tone is strained.
“I suppose…” The thought is filling you with an unexpected warmth. Your fingertips tingle at the prospect. “If he kicks me out, I’ll just come right back here.”
“Right,” Azul says, setting down his stack of books next to the first one.
“No harm done,”
“Uh-huh,”
“Okay, I… I’ll see you. Or not,”
“Or not!”
You sling your bag over your shoulder and huff at the weight. It’d been a long time since you’d packed for a few weeks worth of travel- then again, you might have to unpack it all by tonight.
With the Headmage's absent-minded blessing, you step into the mirror, taking a deep breath before entering the smooth silver surface and rushing through space and time, magic surrounding and bouncing off of you like raindrops sliding off an umbrella.
Then, a chill.
Something cold and wet kisses your nose. You open your eyes and feel a shower of snowflakes embrace your body, decorating the black of your clothes like a million tiny dying stars. They fell, melted, and then fell again.
You blink. You're here.
Fleur City looks so beautiful in the snow.
You tighten your grip around your bag and venture into the surrounding area, far from where you'd been spit out by the mirror. The city is abuzz with chatter, both tourists and locals alike partaking in the warm treats and winter festivities. The smell of chocolate and spices fills the air.
Oh, how you wish you had money. You would’ve loved to just stay in a hotel, and avoid the upcoming confrontation altogether. It had been only a few months…
Well, there’s still no harm in asking. You’d been treated well enough on the masquerade trip in the autumn. But, you hadn’t been invited this time. You’d heard about how private and closed off Noble Bell College was to the outside world, perhaps you were a little foolish to think you’d be some kind of exception.
Your stomach lurches. What are you doing here?
The realization washes over you like the tide. What on earth are you doing? You can’t be here- not after last time. You’d be sent packing before you could even get a word in. This was a mistake. Azul had gotten into your head about it, and… Never in your right mind would you have…
You press a sweaty palm to your temple. You feel dizzy. You have to go back, even if it meant Azul calling you a coward and whining about his work being interrupted for the entire break.
“Hey! Hello! Excuse me!” a distant voice rings out. You look up, refocusing your vision, and see the vaguely familiar Noble Bell College uniform colors blurring into your line of sight. It’s one of the students- oh, no- it’s the vice president. What was his name again?
“Are you with Night Raven College?” he asks, hurrying towards you and taking your free hand for a firm shake after you nod. “What brings you back to Fleur City? Did you come with anyone else? Where are you staying?”
The enthusiastic drove of questions leaves you feeling even more dizzy than before. “Um… No, I’m alone, I don’t know yet, and I came for…. Break,”
“Oh, excellent. Fleur City is beautiful during the winter, I’m sure you’ll love it. You haven’t found board yet?”
“No, I mean…” you look away, avoiding eye contact. “It was kind of last minute…”
“Ha! You Night Raven students... Well, I can point you towards many charming inns and hostels in the city, but… honestly, we’d love to have you at NBC. It can be quite dreary for the students who stay over break, and having someone such as yourself, from such an esteemed school, around the campus would be an honor,”
Hm. “Oh! I mean… well, if you insist, I can’t turn down such a generous offer. I’m happy to pull my own weight around campus, too,”
“Honorable, diligent, and generous. I would expect nothing less from an NRC student. But there’s no need- the student council will happily cover your stay,”
You chew the inside of your cheek. Will they? But you don’t argue. The Vice President leads you through the city, merrily chatting away about the seasonal festivities, the cuisine, and the ins and outs of the college since your last rendezvous.
“And NBC has the most spectacular closing feast, you really have to come. Final exams will be over in just a day,”
“Right,” you say, falling behind.
“Here we are,” he says, leading you up to the imposing wrought iron gates of the school. “I’m sure everyone will be pleased to see you.”
You're not so sure about that yourself.
He pushes open the gates and brings you inside. The courtyard seems eerily empty- there are no students, none of the pigeons (or pigeon droppings) you remember from your last trip- not even the blanket of frost covering the ground has been disturbed.
The Vice President notices your expression and nods to one of the doors. “Exams, all morning. They’ll be out soon. Let’s get you settled,”
You have yet to protest to any of his generous offers, but his kindness is beginning to rub you the wrong way. You couldn’t have exchanged a single word with him yourself during NRC’s masquerade visit- surely, he couldn’t be doing this out of the kindness of his heart. You barely even remembered his face.
Plus, what was he going to say?
You brush off the thought. Maybe you'd been at Night Raven College too long- those boys were going to get to your head eventually.
The Vice President leads you inside one of the large wooden doors and into the gaping halls of the gothic building. “This way,” he says, bringing you along behind him as a few Noble Bell students pass, eyes wide and curious. You wonder if they’re having the same suspicions you are.
“May I ask you something?” you tread lightly, trying not to seem too suspicious- you wouldn’t want to offend him and get kicked to the curb so soon.
“Certainly,”
“Did you…” your eyes drift up to his blond locks. “Change your hair?”
“Hm?” he turns, peering at you from over his shoulder. “Oh! Goodness, that’s right, you wouldn’t know that. Silly me.”
He chuckles to himself, and then clears his throat. “I’m new. Was just appointed this month, actually. I was at the festival, but not as Vice President,”
Ah… a little less suspicious, then. “What happened to the last guy?”
“He had some, uh… trouble with the President,” Phoenix says, avoiding eye contact as if recalling some unpleasant memory. “A bit of a disappointment, I’ve heard. He was dismissed.”
Curious. You're not so sure you like the sound of that. Nonetheless, you have no choice now but to follow. You watch a parade of ants crawl into a crack in the stone and disappear beneath the tiles of the hall as you pass by.
“You’ll be staying in the same area of the school you did on your last visit. It’ll be busy for today and tomorrow, what with exams ending and students packing up, but I’m sure you’ll find it quite peaceful once the crowds have thinned,”
He leads you up a familiar set of spiral stairs. The sound of your footsteps scuffing the stone floors bounces off the walls. “Will you be leaving?”
“Me? Oh, yes. I have family in the city. But I’ll be visiting periodically, for student council meetings and such. The work is never over at NBC,” he smiles. “Plus, you’ll need someone to protect you from the President.”
He winks and chuckles at his own poor joke, to which you raise an eyebrow. You can’t tell if he’s making some crude innuendo, or if he somehow knows about the true events of the Masquerade… both seem unlikely. Perhaps he’s simply referring to the President’s cold presence, the one your NRC friends had described as unnerving long before the events of that evening had transpired.
“Here we are,” he says, pushing a large wooden door open.
This… is certainly not where you stayed last time. Rather than the small, cookie-cutter empty dorms you and the other NRC students boarded in, this is a long hallway. The floors had gone from stone to wood, and at the end of the space was not a door, but a short set of wooden stairs.
“Come along,” the Vice President says, his robes fluttering behind him as he leads you to the stairs. He pushes open the trap door overhead and nearly pulls you off your feet, hoisting you into the above. His strength stuns you for a second (no one had ever lifted you like that, with such bravado, as if you weighed nothing), and then you come to your senses.
“This is…” you start, looking around the spacious abode. “This is the bell tower?”
“Almost,” he says proudly, walking further in. Most of the room is wooden, held up by massive beams and old rafters. A raised platform, topped with a single low table and a few stools, sits in the center of the room, and large, heavy curtains cover the walls. “This is a part of the old bell tower, back from the humble beginnings of Noble Bell. Much of it was lost some time ago, but this room…” he knocks on one of the wooden beams. “Somehow survived. The rest of the remaining tower was renovated. The rooms you actually stayed in are with the dorms. But I thought this might be more… festive. Since it’s just you.”
You nod slowly, walking by a hanging array of smooth, colorful glass shards. “It’s beautiful,”
“I thought you’d like it,” he grins. “I like to come up here when I need a break from the President and the rest of that council. This building is beautiful. One of the reasons I transferred here from Royal Sword.”
“You were a Royal Sword student?” you turn to him, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckles. “I’m a regular hero,”
“Why’d you come here?”
“I was summoned,” he says. When you can’t help your laugh, he shrugs. “Seriously. I was… recruited. Then after the Vice President was dismissed, I was shoe-in for replacement.”
You take a seat at the table, swiping some ancient-looking wood shavings off its surface. “How so?”
He remains in place, standing at the trapdoor with his hand on his hip and a cocky grin on his face. “I have a good reputation,”
The wooden table is covered in grooves and nicks, stained by water and charred by fire. You run your fingertips over the textured surface, as if you might be able to learn the history of this room just by feeling it. A sense of both overwhelming peace and solemn isolation runs over you and you can’t help but feel both safe and suffocated at the same time. Hundreds of questions run circles around your head- what is this place? Why are you being treated so well? Is there something going on here?
You sigh- the possibility that this might all be coming from the goodness of someone’s heart hadn’t occured to you in the slightest. Perhaps you really had become too jaded at NRC- there’s no kindness without a catch. Or, maybe you were always like this.
“I see you’re all set, then. I have one last exam to take, and then the feast will be on tomorrow,” he waves, opening the trapdoor again. “Oh- and, fair warning- I’ll be letting the President know you’re up here.”
You chew the inside of your cheek again, but you have no room to protest. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you, after all, and right now, you are being very well fed.
And with that, the Vice President is gone.
You tried not to think of home so much. Sometimes, it felt like the universe chose the right person to throw into another dimension- you had few close friends, no serious school or work obligations, no lover, not even a TV show to commit to. You were the prime candidate for a disappearance no one would notice. Or care about.
There were some things you missed, sure- mostly the foods no one here had ever heard of, the movies no one had seen- but Twisted Wonderland was close enough to your reality for it to not make such a difference. Plus, here, you had friends… Sort of.
It still felt as if everything came with a catch- your very existence at NRC was hardly an act of mercy, or charity, or goodness- it was free labor with food and board on the side. Or you were like some kind of pet.
A museum artifact to be gawked at and poked by curious students who didn’t know that tapping on the glass makes some animals kill themselves. Oh, how you hated being a spectacle. An anomaly.
A troublemaker.
You hated being looked at. Noticed. You hated having a reputation, you hated that people whispered about you. You were used to being ignored and avoided, but to be the center of attention? Some cruel punishment from a higher force, no doubt.
When people were watching, you were always under scrutiny. Never above criticism, yes, but you couldn’t seem to get anything but criticism. No matter how many problems you solved, mysteries you uncovered, tasks you completed for the Headmage, you were still a troublemaker.
You were still guilty.
Guilty of being magicless. Guilty of being troublesome. Guilty of existing on a campus that had no need or want for you. Guilt of being you.
At home, you could take comfort in being hated and shunned by your peers. To them, you were always too strange, too distant, too secretive, too quiet. You couldn’t fake a smile or force a cheery tone to save your life. You couldn’t pretend- when you weren’t staring blankly off into space, you were wearing every emotion on your sleeve. Too blunt. Too standoffish. Too emotional.
It kept you safe, and it kept you free. You held everyone at an arm’s length for a reason. It was foolish to think anything would be different here. No one wants you. Not in this universe, not in the last.
Ashamed.
You were poison. You ruined everything you touched. You tried to suppress your emotions, and it only made them stronger. It only made your outbursts worse. Thoughts turn into words turn into violence turns into irredeemable secrets you will be responsible for until you die.
Guilty.
You can’t do anything right. You can’t be anything right. Not there, not at NRC. Your entire being is wrong.
You keep it under wraps. You pretend it isn't there. You shake hands and do work and go about the real world like a person, hiding the monster everyone knows you are in plain sight.